


One Shot: Midnight Druid Snack

by brownskinsugarplum76



Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: British, Chest Hair, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Doggy Style, Drinking, F/M, French Kissing, Kissing, Large Cock, Leather Trousers, Led Zeppelin References, Loss of Control, Missionary Position, Muscles, Music, Musicians, Nighttime, Nudity, Oral Sex, Rock Stars, Rough Sex, Whiskey & Scotch, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 00:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20480216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownskinsugarplum76/pseuds/brownskinsugarplum76
Summary: You're dancing to a sensual Page and Plant song after a long day at work. Robert gets in the act and then helps to ease your worried mind even more.





	One Shot: Midnight Druid Snack

You’re swaying to the tribal sounds of Page and Plant that you put on repeat play. The music ebbs and flows with shifting, exotic rhythms. Robert’s voice is pleading, soaring, wailing. It, and Jimmy’s masterful, menacing playing, stoke the fires of sensuality in the song and in your spirit. 

It’s after midnight, and you’re on your second drink after a long day. Between the whiskey and the seductive groove, you feel your consciousness slip away as your body takes over. 

Your arms are busy with gentle gestures, and an arch of your back seamlessly rolls into an undulation of your waist and hips. You don’t know if the music is making love to you, or the other way around, but the sound and the movement are whipping you into an uninhibited, lustful frenzy. 

Your eyes are closed. A strong pair of hands grasp your hips, and you’re pulled roughly to a hard body that is eagerly executing a slow grind against your soft curves. 

You feel the person’s hot breath spread on your neck, and the sensation causes a delicious shiver in your body. 

And then he murmurs in your ear: “I’m so glad you’re enjoying our song, love.”

Your mind can’t handle all of the pleasurable ways Robert is teasing you, so you surrender to the part of you that never fails to guide your body to the right groove for release, to quench the most ancient of needs. 

To help you get there, he pulls the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders and eases the clothing to the floor. 

“Turn around,” he commands with a rasp. 

You open your eyes. He’s shirtless and barefoot but wearing his leather pants, which are under considerable strain at the crotch. It seems he is looking to you for relief as much as you’ve realized you need him.

You bury your hands in the soft fuzz of his chest, tease his biceps with meandering caresses, clutch his broad back. You want to feel every ridge, every muscular curve, every smooth plane of his body. You are a bold explorer bent on claiming every possible inch of Robert’s bodily terrain with your touch. 

He has similar ideas, and his large hands conquer the expanse of your body at an agonizingly leisurely pace. 

You’ve never gotten such strong warning signals of lust from your body before. You have to heed your wanton compulsion. 

Robert makes you wait, though, as he peels off his pants. But the sight of his nude body is worth the wait. Seeing his thick thighs and his massive cluster of manhood hardens your nipples and sets the muscles of your core into gentle spasms. 

Your arousal in this moment astonishes you. Your body is past the point of no return. You bite your lip and moan out your aching need. The hardness of Robert’s cock is the surest sign that he is suffering from the same kind of hunger as you.

Before you know it you are grinding against each other again. Unable to stand it any longer, he lifts you, and you straddle his body with a bear hug of your arms and legs while you bury your head in his neck. 

Your sex is slippery against his in this position, and you resume your undulations as he walks to your bed. 

He lays you on your back. Once he has claimed his rightful throne, by making himself comfortable on his knees over the warm flesh of your body, you roam his mouth with your tongue like you own the place. Then you kiss each other everywhere that there’s skin to be reached.

You realize that his kisses have a purpose, a destination. His lips trail lower, slowing down with each successive kiss, until he is at the gate of your core. You are unable to writhe as much on the bed anymore, because he has placed a strong, heavy forearm across your hips. 

Then he goes in for the kill, his warm tongue blessing your core with licks as soft and slippery as coconut oil.

The pleasure expands slowly through your body. It’s as though each cell is receiving an orgasm of its own, until your whole body explodes in sensual frisson. 

The music continues to play. Before he can crawl upward and lord his muscular body over you for penetration’s sake, you get on all fours and present your back to him. 

You have been hypnotized into a tantalizing lull by the exotic groove and Robert’s tongue, but now you need to feel love as savage as the cruel reality of the desperation that grips you at the moment. 

He grasps your hips and you let your legs gape open, revealing the swollen, wet petals of your sex.

A soft growl of appreciation escapes his lips. The firmness at the head of his cock draws long, lascivious lines lengthwise over your lips and clit, and your body shakes uncontrollably. You are lost before he can grace your core with a single inch of himself. The movement is devilishly teasing.

The thrusts that he doles out once he’s inside of you are merciless. He is no longer killing you softly; he is slamming into you with rattling force. His ardent pounding is almost unbearable, and yet it is everything you’ve been hoping for. Each slice of his dick inside of you shatters the memories of the day’s work that won’t leave you alone, offers you a feeling that’s more vital and clarifying than the haze brought about by the liquor. He fucks you back to life in a way that you know will leave you energized in the morning. 

He has kept up a blistering rhythm inside of you, but you notice that the steady tempo has begun to go off the rails. Robert announces that he’s near his release by yelling with the agony of impatience. His voice is less that of a Wesh gentleman farmer and more of a Birmingham nightclub scoundrel, as colorful, coarse British phrases that you’ve never heard before fill the air with his lustful shouts. His uncharacteristic loss of lady-killing charm is a turn-on that you never knew you harbored. 

He keeps you hanging on to every dirty word, every incendiary, stinging thrust, until an explosion of passion rocks both of your bodies in different ways.

You fall forward and he collapses on top of you. Both of you are satiated and sedated, and you quickly drift off to sleep.


End file.
